


Past and Present

by LadyLingua



Category: PIERCE Tamora - Works, Tortall - Tamora Pierce
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-25
Updated: 2017-06-25
Packaged: 2018-11-18 23:37:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11301180
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyLingua/pseuds/LadyLingua
Summary: Coram talks to Alanna on her wedding day. Warning: a few swears.





	Past and Present

**Author's Note:**

> The info about Alanna's mother came mostly from things Tammy has said, to the best of my memory.

Coram hesitated before the sturdy oak door for a moment, before his resolve returned and made him rap his knuckles against it firmly.

“Who is it?” Alanna’s suspicious voice called from within her adoptive father’s study.

“Open up lass, it’s me,” he growled. From beyond the door he heard the sounds of furniture scraping and a latch being undone.

“Come in, it’s open,” Alanna called, closer than she was before.

Coram entered quickly, and, before Alanna could even say anything about it, he turned and shut the door behind him.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that everyone’s been turning me mad,” Alanna complained as Coram wrestled with the sticky latch. “Thayet, Eleni, Cythera, the maids, I know they mean well but this isn’t that big of a deal; I’ve been living with George and acting as the lady of the Swoop for weeks now. Today only makes everything official.”

Finally the latch went, and Coram could turn to face her for the first time. When he saw what she was doing he didn’t know whether to laugh or to cry.

The lass was seated daintily on a stool, wearing a breathtakingly beautiful pale lilac gown, with intricate swirls of soft lavender embroidery accenting it. The neckline dropped lower than any he could recall having seen her wear and made him blush deeply, while the bodice nipped in tightly at her waist, revealing the feminine curves she generally kept hidden. On her feet were delicate matching lilac silk slippers. Her face was carefully and tastefully made up, with only the impossible perfection of her skin and her unusually long and dark eyelashes to give it away. Her hair was nearly the same as ever, cut into a bob that just brushed her collarbone, but today it had a strand of pearls woven into the top, functioning as a headband, which seemed to brighten and illuminate her copper tresses. Coram had never seen her looking more elegant. She was the perfect picture of a lady, with the exception of what she was doing. Atop her lap was a large canvas sheet, which she was using to protect her fine silken gown as she polished her sword. Her fingers were as steady and competent as they always were, and for a moment Coram watched mesmerized as Alanna methodically rubbed her rag into the glinting steel surface.

It was possibly the most “Alanna” thing Coram had ever seen.

“Lass, what are ‘ye doing?” Coram cried.

“Don’t, just don’t,” Alanna snapped back at him. “If you badger me I swear I’ll kick you out, just like I did the others. It’s my wedding! Don’t I get to do what I want?” The perfect illusion of her made up face was somewhat marred by the pink spots in her cheeks as she scowled crossly at him.

“All right, don’t be cryin’ to me when 'ye ruin your nice dress,” Coram grumbled. Inside he was secretly relieved. For a moment he almost didn’t recognize the beautiful noble lady in front of him.

“I won’t ruin it! That’s what the canvas is for! And don’t get at me about getting polish on my fingers, I have plenty of time to wash them before the ceremony. George wouldn’t care anyways,” Alanna sniffed.

“Aye, he wouldn’t,” Coram agreed. It was why he approved, just barely, of the thief marrying his lass. He grabbed a chair and dragged it over to where she sat. He admired her work, then asked, “Are you nervous?”

“No! Why won’t people stop asking me that?” Alanna yelled.

“Because we know you too well. 'Ye fiddle with things when yer nervous and trying t’ hide it,” he grinned back at her. “Come on now, finally having second thoughts about marrying a thief?”

This time Alanna registered that he was teasing, and she gave him a wicked grin in response. “Excuse you, he’s a reformed thief now. And no, I don’t have second thoughts about George.” Her grin faded and the anxiety crowded back onto her features. Coram gave her a moment to collect herself.

“It’s the ceremony, I’m… it’s just… I don’t know, it’s odd to do something so intimate in front of so many people,” Alanna said quickly. Her eyes flicked away from his as her blush deepened.

“Intimate? What exactly are 'ye doing in this ceremony of yours lass?” Coram teased.

Alanna shook her head. “You know. To stand up and say you’re building a life with someone. Can’t we just quietly start being married without having to tell everyone?”

Coram shrugged. “Well sure, of course you can. Why aren’t 'ye?”

“Because Thayet and Eleni and everybody make a big fucking deal out of everything,” Alanna whined. She brought her hand to her mouth and began chewing on a thumbnail.

Coram raised an eyebrow, “Since when does my lass do anything she doesn’t want to just because popular opinion suggests it?”

“Coraaaam,” Alanna tipped her head back and rolled her eyes like she was a little girl being scolded for mischief again.

“I mean it. Say the word and I’ll get 'ye out of here. I’m sure George’ll understand.” Coram crossed his arms in front of his chest, implacable.

“No, I can’t.”

“Sure ye can,” Coram shrugged. “I know, none better, that nobody can stop ye when ye’ve got yourself set on something. We’ll go now.”

Alanna turned a darker red. “Fine! It’s because I don’t want to go! I love George, I want to build a life by his side, and I want to stand up and say it to everyone I know! I’m just afraid, alright? What if wanting isn’t enough? I’ve never been a wife, I don’t know how, I never got to see my mother do it, and I know there’s more to it than love and desire, and what if I ruin everything between us?”

She didn’t stop yelling so much as finally run out of breath.

Coram regarded her seriously for a moment, then stood. “Wait here. I have somethin’ for 'ye.” He turned to the door and began fiddling with the latch.

“Wha…Coram?” Alanna asked, befuddled by his abrupt run for the exit.

The door finally opened for him. “I said wait here,” he answered, then jogged down the stairs, out the door, and into the courtyard. Bright sunlight hit his eyes as he passed chairs, tables, a canopy, and gorgeous decorations. All of Alanna and George’s friends’ and family were already drinking and carousing together in joy. Coram waved vaguely as he walked past familiar faces, and headed into the section of the household Myles and Eleni were housing guests in. In his room Coram quickly found what he was looking for. A slim, slightly battered, wooden box, unmarked and unremarkable in every way.

“Ah, gotcha,” Coram smiled. He slipped the box into his tunic and headed back out past the revelry, to return to the study.

“What in the name of Mithros’ left-” Alanna’s curses were cut off by Coram’s raised hand.

“Now just listen, alright?” he said sternly. Alanna looked ready to yell again, but after a moment she sagged in the wake of his steely gaze, and nodded mutely.

“Alright then. 'Ye probably noticed there wasn’t much of yer mother’s things left at Trebond. As 'ye can surely guess, yer father mostly destroyed it all. I think it hurt him too much to be reminded of her, gods rest her soul. Well, during this time the two of 'ye were just wee babes, and it occurred to me that 'ye might want something of hers, to remember her by when you grew older. I had hoped to save a few things for each of you, but Lord Alan moved quicker than I expected. Unfortunately I could only manage to get my hands on one thing, this here.” Coram drew the wooden box out of his tunic, and Alanna’s eyes grew wide in shock.

She had never before encountered a relic of her mother, and for reasons she couldn’t have explained if she had tried, both desire and fear swam through her veins as she marveled at the box. Coram opened it to reveal a thin silver chain, dotted with creamy pearls.

“'Ye look a lot like her, you know,” he said suddenly. “She wasn’t what 'ye would call a 'classic beauty’, but she had her own kind of allure, and she had charm, and when she was in her element 'ye couldn’t find one half so fine, or so fair.”

Alanna’s throat suddenly felt full. “Coram,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “I saved this, thinkin’ 'ye would want it when you were ready to come to court, but then I realized all my plannin’ had been for a very different girl than the lass I was teaching to hunt and to ride. And then I thought mayhap yer brother would want it, to present to a lady someday but, well,” Coram’s lips twisted into a wry smile, “Let’s just say 'ye both stymied me.” For a fleeting moment Alanna pictured Thom presenting Duke Roger with the delicate necklace before her, and if the thought of Thom hadn’t ripped a hole through the part of her heart she was certain would never fully heal, she might have laughed.

“And anyways, before I knew it 'ye were all grown and trying to become a hero, and didn’t need frippery like this. Then suddenly 'ye had a real father, all to happy to give you pretty gifts and tokens.” Coram nodded at the strand of pearls in her hair, a wedding present from Myles.

“Coram,” Alanna whispered again, unsure of what to say.

He continued without taking note of her interruption. “Marinie wasn’t what 'ye might have expected. She was a wild thing in her heart, she loved to race horses and to ride through the countryside. She had no patience for politics, but she loved the parties and the nightlife at court. When Lord Alan brought her home to Trebond I thought he had made the biggest mistake of his life.”

He continued on, ignoring Alanna’s shocked look. “Here she was, this mad girl who had been disowned by her family for breaking an engagement, who had no head for the ins and outs of running a fief, whose only interest was to ride and to play and to laugh all the day long. I thought she was the worst wife a man could find. She didn’t even bring with her a dowry; her father was so angry he refused her it.

But the thing was, yer father didn’t need a serious wife with a head for numbers and an interest in sewing. He needed a wild woman, someone to loosen him up and force him to interact with his people. The villagers always mistrusted Lord Alan, even when he was a boy he was cold and aloof. Marinie was too brash to dislike for long, and too eager for friendship to avoid. People grew to like her, and to like Lord Alan because of her love for him. She could make him do things no other could have, and brought him to life. He could handle the numbers and the practical matters, but he never could understand and enjoy people like she could. Without her, 'ye saw, he lost his ability to be with his people, and he grew harsh and cold. I once thought a wife ought to be a meek, quiet woman who was good with her hands and sturdy as they come. Yer mother taught me that a good wife is the one who loves, who trusts in 'ye, who has the things that 'ye lack, who is loyal to 'ye, and most of all, a good wife is the woman who is, by being herself, exactly who 'ye need.

Ye’ll be a good wife, lass. Just love him, and be true to yourself, and ye can take the rest as it comes. It’s in yer blood.”

Coram wasn’t prepared for the arms Alanna had thrown around him as she buried her face in his shoulder. After a second of surprise he quickly gathered her up in a tight embrace.

After a moment they pulled apart, and Alanna began to wipe at her teary face with her polishing cloth. “Oh gods curse it, Cythera spent so long on my face!”

Coram handed her his handkerchief to use instead, and chuckled. “I’ll go get her, lass. I’m sure, knowing how 'ye are, she expected worse than a few touch ups today.”

“Hey!” Alanna sniffed, but Coram was rewarded with a small smile. He turned for the door.

“Wait,” Alanna called. “Can you-” she gestured to the wooden box that still held her mother’s necklace, and swept her hair up off her neck.

At first Coram was confused, but then he realized what she wanted. It was something he had seen other fathers do for their lasses on their wedding day. He carefully undid the small silver clasp and draped the chain around Alanna’s neck as she kept her hair out of the way. He closed the clasp again, and gently straightened the strand of pearls. It came to rest delicately on her sternum, a soft accent for the scar that ran down her chest.

Coram smiled over the top of Alanna’s head. “'Ye look beautiful lass. They’ll all be out there wondering what Cooper did to deserve a fine lass like you.”

Alanna reddened again. “Will you find Cythera for me? Tell her I need help with my face paint?”

Coram preferred her face as it was now, bare, red and slightly smudged. It was what he had been used to seeing most of her life, but he smiled. “Of course, I’ll send her back here. And then I ought to be lookin' for my own woman, Rispah’ll be thinkin’ I’m into the ale too deep if I don’t find her soon.”

Alanna smiled. “Thank you, Coram.” She glanced back into the mirror and ran her finger lightly over the necklace. “For everything.”

“Of course lass,” Coram said gruffly. He walked to the door, sparing a backwards glance before he left the room to search for Cythera. Alanna was still looking into the mirror, but now she was smiling, her polishing things forgotten on the floor behind her. He grinned happily, and walked out the door, the sound of the music and the laughter of those outside rising to greet him.


End file.
